


angel of death? not likely

by chaeunbins



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: I DIDNT EVEN MENTION WONHO IM SORRY BB, M/M, ahhh this is kind of a mess, enjoy?, im not even a hyungkyunist but i gotta admit they're cute, please dont take this seriously, romance is implied, the other members are only mentioned im sorry fellas, you can tell this is my first fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 16:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15953003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaeunbins/pseuds/chaeunbins
Summary: Changkyun is just trying to pass college. He never signed up to deal with late night intruders, especially if they come in the form of unfairly handsome angels of  death.just a lil fic idea i’ve had for a while … please don’t kill me for this ;)





	angel of death? not likely

**Author's Note:**

> hello hope you are all doing well on this wonderful monday just droppin this lil weird fic uhhhh a BIG thanks to denny for looking it over and giving me some encouragement wouldnt have done this without you love ya mwah … anyway this is kinda unedited and very messy so … ill come back to edit it once in a while maybe perhaps I HOPE YOU LIKE IT feel free to drag me in the comments sksksks

Changkyun’s hands hover over the keyboard, but he can’t seem to find anything to write. It’s past midnight, and he’s just started on his essay. Panic grows in the back of his mind, but currently, he’s doing a pretty good job of ignoring it. 

“What am I supposed to do about the demographic trends in the eighteenth century, who even cares?” he mumbles as he types in a bland header. He’ll fix it later.

By the time he’s on the third paragraph, his eyes ache and he’s got a headache to add onto his fatigue. He’s considering just submitting the essay incomplete when he hears … something. In the kitchen. The sounds of crinkling wrappers, a cabinet being opened, closed, then more rustling. 

His hands freeze over the keyboard, his heartbeat suddenly all too loud. He knows it can’t be his roommate, Jooheon; he’s crashing at Minhyuk’s house tonight. Changkyun didn’t hear the door open, either, so …. how the hell? 

Silently putting his laptop aside, Changkyun shifts off of the beat-up couch he was working on to steady himself on trembling legs. His phone, battery dead as always, threatens to fall off the edge of the coffee table. He fixes its position with shaky hands and moves toward the hallway entrance.The light is on in the kitchen, and someone is in there for sure. His eyes dart to Jooheon’s baseball bat leaning against the TV cabinet. He might as well take it for self defense.

Gripping the bat with tremulous and sweaty palms, he makes his way down the short hallway to stand beside the kitchen entrance. Pressing his back against the wall, adjusting his grip on the bat, he takes a deep breath before finally peering around the edge of the doorway. 

In the middle of his kitchen, with their back facing Changkyun, stands a person at least six feet tall. They’re dressed in a dark hoodie and skinny jeans, and seem to be rummaging around in the cabinets, an opened snack in one hand. 

Changkyun takes a breath as quietly he can, raises his bat, and brings it down with all the force he can muster onto the stranger’s back. 

The bat goes right through the figure. Slams against the edge of the marble counter.

Changkyun stands frozen, unable to believe that the person, as solid as they look, just, isn’t? He blinks twice, shakes his head, tries to make sense of the situation, but he can’t. When the bat made “contact” with the person’s back, everything flickered for a second like a television with bad connection; the figure went temporarily translucent before going back to it’s solid appearance. Just when he’s about to blame this all on some kind of late night hallucination, the stranger finishes looking around the snack drawer and turns around leisurely, leaning back into the counter as they look down at their food. 

It’s a guy, with relatively young features. His hair is a soft, pastel pink, a stark contrast from his choice of clothes. He’s got earphones plugged in, and with the volume his music is playing, there’s no wonder he didn’t hear or give any reaction to the impact of the baseball bat with the counter just seconds ago. His eyes are hooded, relaxed. With a round nose and pair of almost unbelievably beautiful lips, this guy, whoever he is, is a bit too much for Changkyun to take in all at once. 

While he is trying to sort out his frenzied, sleep-deprived, and panicked thoughts, the stranger evidently finishes the snack at hand and moves to throw the wrapper away. His eyes flit towards Changkyun, but pass over quickly, as if he doesn’t need to address the owner of the kitchen he is currently standing in. Suddenly, realizing something, he freezes and frighteningly looks back at Changkyun. He takes out one earphone and blinks twice before speaking. 

“Wait. Uh. You’re staring at me … Can you ... Can you see me?”

His voice is deep, smooth, with a slight pitch to it. Changkyun finds himself at a loss for words for a second before stuttering back an answer. “Yeah, y-yeah I can. Why wouldn’t I, uh, not be able to see you?”

“Shit!” the stranger bursts out angrily, stalking out of the kitchen. He doesn’t go around Changkyun to get to the doorway. He just simply walks right through. 

When he does, Changkyun feels a chill, like a sudden cold wind through an open window. It comes and envelopes him, all around, for two seconds before the feeling passes as quickly as the stranger does. Following him hesitantly, he walks into his living room to find the tall stranger pacing back and forth, wildly gesticulating and muttering to himself.

“Why do I always get the ones with the Sight …. Makes my job so much harder …. Why couldn’t Kihyun take this assignment … It’s supposed to be my night off anyway …”

“E-excuse me?” Changkyun breaks in. “A-are you ... Are you a ghost?” 

The guy stops pacing immediately and looks over at him. His face shifts from anger to an expression of soft sadness, mixed in with reluctance. He gets a bit closer. He towers over Changkyun.

“I’m not, but you could say I come from the same … background.” He starts off, slow, as if explaining to a child. He looks like he is choosing his words carefully, like a doctor breaking bad news to a patient. “I go by the name Hyungwon, and I’m what people call - you might want to sit down for this - the Grim Reaper. Well. One of them, anyway.”

They stare each other down in silence for about thirty seconds before Changkyun bursts out laughing. Maybe it’s the late night delirium, but he can’t help it.

Annoyed, the guy - Hyungwon’s - eyebrows pull down together. “You’re okay with me being a ghost but not the angel of death? Isn’t that a bit contradictory? Fine; you don’t believe me. That’s okay. That’s fine. I was going to wipe your memory anyway. It’s the only way for me to do my job. Keep out of the way, and I’ll only take one soul tonight.”

Changkyun cuts his laughing fit short to stare at him. “W-what do you mean, one soul? Are you going to kill someone?”

Hyungwon laughs dryly, slides his hands into his back pockets. “Nope, that’s not me. The killing is handled by another department. I just do the cleaning up afterwards.”

Another bout of silence. 

Hyungwon waits another couple of seconds before sighing and rolling up his sleeves. His hands are thin, nearly skeletal. “So. Are you going to show me which room Mr. Kim is sleeping in? Or do I have to do everything myself?”

Throughout this whole ordeal, Changkyun’s brain had been feeling like it’s working in slow motion, like he can’t process the information fast enough, but now he’s just confused. “Mr. Kim? What are you talking about? Nobody named Mr. Kim lives here.”

His face mirroring Changkyun’s confusion, Hyungwon lifts one inquisitive eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m here to take Kim Hoyoon, age seventy three. He’s going to die due to a stroke. Isn’t this apartment 3B?”

Shaking his head slowly, Changkyun watches Hyungwon’s face fall, then shift to disbelief. “This is apartment 2B.”

“Well.” Hyungwon starts, taking a deep breath. He looks discouraged and slightly uncomfortable. Maybe even a little embarrassed. His confidence from earlier seems to have all but disappeared completely. “This is … mortifying. First night out in this sector, and I visit the wrong house.”

Changkyun can’t find it in himself to reply. He just keeps staring at the stranger. An unbothered part of his mind calmly notes how broad Hyungwon’s shoulders are.

Hyungwon waits for a word from Changkyun, but when he doesn’t receive anything, he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and averts his eyes sheepishly. Moving sideways, he makes towards the door. He pauses in front of the closed door, and slowly turns around. He clasps his hands together and awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. 

“So, I will be um. Getting going now. I’ve got something to take care of. Obviously. Which is why I was here. On accident. Well, you know that. Anyhow. I better. Get out of here. Sorry for bothering you?” he rushes through his choppy farewell, and seems to have difficulty making eye contact with Changkyun. He opens his mouth to add something, decides against it, and turns away to step through the closed door.

Changkyun’s sluggish mind finally catches up on what’s happening and manages to form a sentence for him. “Hey, uh … aren’t you going to … wipe my memory?”

Hyungwon pauses, halfway through the door, quite literally through it, and winces, as if he was hoping to get out of the apartment without having to answer another question. “I … I would … I should, as it’s protocol, and if I don’t, Hyunwoo will kill me ... but, you see …” He cuts off his sentence and mumbles, no, nearly mouths the next words, way too lightly for Changkyun to hear. 

“I’m s-sorry? Didn’t catch that?” Changkyun steps closer, hesitant, but somehow brave enough to approach the guy, the reaper, the ghost, his weird late night hallucination, whatever he was. So far, aside from the fact his assignment was to take the soul of some Mr. Kim, he seemed benign enough.

“You’re kind of cute, and I’d really like a human friend, even if it isn’t allowed, I won’t tell anyone, and obviously you couldn’t either, no one would believe you, so I want you to remember, so we could like … get to know each other? Maybe? When I’ve got work around this sector, I mean, maybe I could even pay you back for the snacks I stole with a drink or something-” Hyungwon bursts out a ramble of words, barely comprehensible. He blinks twice again and shuts his mouth quickly. 

For the third time that night, the two figures stand in silence, Hyungwon evidently waiting for an answer, Changkyun too stricken and shocked to give any sort of intelligible response. After at least a whole minute of waiting, Hyungwon’s face falls and he heaves out one last sigh.

“Alright … you didn’t need to answer. It’s fine, I’m sure this is all too much for you to take in anyway,” Just before he turns around and makes his way completely out of the door, he offers the wide-eyed boy in front of him a weak smile, a faint wave. “See you around, then?”

Changkyun finally regains his ability to speak and manages to stutter out a goodbye. Only after Hyungwon steps out and leaves the apartment, only after the door returns to looking solid, only after standing in the middle of his now-empty apartment for a good six m does it hit Changkyun that he probably has one of the most inventive imaginations gifted to mankind.

An angel of death? With pink hair? He needs to take a break from all the fantasy novels.

His knees feel weak, his hands suddenly exhausted from holding onto the bat so tightly. He loosens his grip and reaches up to massage his weary eyes on his way back to his laptop. Just as he’s passing the kitchen, a funny thought passes through his mind. He resists the impulse to check the counter for the wrapper Hyungwon had “discarded” (he wasn’t real, so he didn’t actually, right?) for only a second before giving in and hesitantly looking into the brightly lit kitchen.

It’s there. On the counter. A reminder that maybe, just maybe, all the events of the night were more than a hallucination.

**Author's Note:**

> hehe sorry this is mainly unedited but anyway ... just wanted to post it before i lost my confidence. hope you liked it!!! hmu on twitter my user is @kwoneunbns also stream pentagon's naughty boy for extra life points IT'S A GREAT SONG MY BOYS i love them and i love YOU dear reader


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